


Soon

by thegillovnyway



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-18 02:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14843978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegillovnyway/pseuds/thegillovnyway
Summary: What if David sent that video of Anya Marina singing her song to Gillian?





	Soon

There’s no reason to send the video to her except that he wants to. It’s cute. He thinks it is. Gillian likes music and this woman has an amazing voice. Those are the things he tells himself as he copies the link to the video into a message. His kids keep showing him how as he has a habit of forgetting how it works. They’ll never understand how none of this comes naturally to him. David double checks it’s really a message and not a public domain like twitter. The horror. Once he’s assured, he presses send.

He decides to add a _‘watch this’_ after a moment. When she doesn’t react, he puts in a _'please’_ as well. Then he waits, staring at the phone screen. He has no idea where she is right now. London, New York or the moon. She could be anywhere. For all he knows, she could be asleep. Or merely busy. Gone are the days when he knew. He knew where she was for a while, because she let him know. It still happens these times that she tells him, asks him to meet up. But it’s not the same. None of it is. So he waits. She will react, he knows that; he knows her, after all. Right now he is not a priority in her life. All he can do is wait. Just. Wait.

David listens to the song again. It’s quite catchy and it makes him smile, chuckles even. The waiting game is exhausting and he picks up his phone again. No reaction yet. He can’t wait; he just doesn’t want to. Time to up the ante, he decides.

 _'Think I should?’_ , he types, _'Stick it in you?’_ David sends it.

This time it doesn’t take long for an answer. He grins, should have known she can’t resist any sexual innuendo.

_'My memory might be bad, but I’m pretty sure you already have and more than once. Nice song, by the way. Why is no one writing songs for me?’_

David wants to tell her that he does. All the time. He just doesn’t tell her. Obscures their history and his love until there’s nothing left for her, or anyone else, to recognize. This is how they’ve always done it; hide, deny. Laugh it away. There’s nothing special here, between us. Move on, folks. David, though, has never taken his own advice. He doesn’t move on, remains forever in that same space, waiting. For her. For Gillian.

 _'They will now that you’re a Netflix Queen’_ , David stops and reconsiders. That’s not how he wants to do this. They don’t talk about this, him. This conversation, all of this, is just them. David and Gillian. There’s no place for anyone else. He deletes the words letter by letter.

_'There are songs written about you. Who knows, maybe they’ll be more after you woo them with your new show. Congrats, by the way. If you need any help researching certain positions….’_

David considers using an emoji. He might if it didn’t remind him of… no, not thinking about her now. Just Gillian and him like way back when. Back when things were okay, when they were going right for once. They used to joke about sex all the time, in the past. Whether they were having it with each other or with other people. Anything to make her laugh, to hear that beautiful sound. It had always come easily to him. A joke here, some innuendo there. But then it ended, stopped like everything else did. They broke up (is it a break-up, she’d spit at him that day, when you weren’t even fucking together in the first place? Fucking is what we were; the words even now a constant reminder in his head). They broke and then. End of story.

 _'I might be able to teach you a few things.’_ She texts back and David smiles. Just as he’s about to answer her, his tongue coming out to rest against his bottom lip in concentration, his phone blinks at him again.

 _'I have to go now. Talk to you later? Miss you. More than you probably think. Thank you.’_ David halts. He wants to tell her how much he misses her, too; he could write her a sonnet, an ode. An ode to Gillian A., what missing you feels like. What is she thanking me for? He wonders staring at the letters. His text? Congratulating her on her new show? Her new life? One that he is no longer a part of, not really. His eyes catch the question mark, focus on that.

 _'Talk to you later.’_ The four words can’t capture any of his feeling, are ludicrously inadequate. As soon as he sends them, he wants them back. He wants her back. Their banter, their easy relationship. His fingers move over the screen again.

 _'I wonder if you miss me half as much as I miss you. We should do something about that soon.’_ David sighs, doesn’t expect an answer any time soon. Or ever. But it only takes a moment. One that defines a new beginning, to him.

_'Soon.’_


End file.
